


Push and Pull

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Half-Sibling Incest, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Jon doesn't get the opportunity to fill Robb fully often. But when he does, he does.





	Push and Pull

**Author's Note:**

> again, I was playing around with the kink generator, and got restraints + fisting.

"Are you sure about this?"

Robb gasps, tugging his wrists against the newly bound strip of cloth, checking the tightness of the knots. He bites his lip and nods, splaying his legs wider, emphasising his cock lying red and obscenely hard upon his naked belly. Jon curses under his breath. It's not often they do it like this, it's not often they have the time - most of their encounters have been frantic, furtive, in silent terror of being seen committing such shame and sin. But tonight, with their father and Robb's mother journeyed to the Neck for few weeks, and their younger siblings all safely tucked in bed, the risk of getting gets lesser, enough to take the chance of taking their time.

Even now, Jon hasn't undressed anymore than stripping off his jerkin and unlacing his breeches, afraid of what will happen if some does come, and finds him naked, with Robb tied to his bed. But Robb is naked, bare as a babe and utterly on display, moaning softly as he pretends to struggle against his bindings. If anyone finds them, that would be a dead giveaway. But still, Jon couldn't resist Robb's whispers in his ear, his pleas, _I even brought some of Mother's fabric scraps, please._

He was surprised, though perhaps he shouldn't have been. Robb's always surprising him with the things he wants. He still remembers the first time he took Robb's arse, desperately in the dead of night, barely stopping to say hello before tearing Robb's clothes off and pushing him into position. He does not know what made him brave enough to try such a thing – drink, most likely – but he remembers all too well how Robb responded: the moans in his ear, the teeth biting into his shoulder to keep Robb from screaming, and the furious begging, _oh yes, Jon, harder, there, more, please, more!_

Jon groans and squeezes himself through his breeches at the memory, and Robb lets out a noise of protest as he does so, squirming in frustration. They don't get to do that often, it takes too long and leaves too much mess to clean up ever, they've never the time – to his great regret, and Robb's also, for Jon knows every time he does get to fuck Robb that way, how much Robb loves it. Now they have thus rare opportunity, he probably shouldn't waste time, but Jon can't help but want to keep Robb hanging a little longer. There's something intoxicating about having the Heir to Winterfell at his mercy.

He sighs, looking down at Robb staring at him in need and envy, and he smiles. Gently, firmly, he presses his palm down over the skin of Robb's belly, just north of his cock. Robb groans and arches his spine at the touch. "Tease," he gasps, laughing.

"You're the one who wanted to be tied up," Jon points out, and Robb simply huffs at that - or at least, that's all he gets time to do before Jon does take his prick in hand, stroking him with a light, teasing grip that nonetheless mucks him buck forward for more. "You wanted me to do what I want with you."

Robb moans, pulling hard against his ropes as he humps against Jon's hand, and Jon stubbornly refuses to touch him any harder or faster, his own prick throbbing in his breeches at the sight. The heat of Robb's cock pulses against his palm, and he bites his lip. _Someday, I'll have him fuck me,_ JonJon thinks, burning with curiosity as to how it would feel to have that cock pry him open. But he's fairly sure that night won't be tonight. That's not what Robb wants right now.

"Easy, Robb," he says as he keeps loosely wanking his brother off, while with his spare hand he reaches for a spare pot of lamp oil Robb made sure to bring specially. "I know what you want."

With another bite of his lip, Robb's eyes go wide as Jon brings the oil into view. "Ah, yes," he whispers, seemingly more to himself than Jon, and he sinks into the bed with wide-spread legs, keening up to show his little hole. "Jon!"

Jon tries to smother a laugh at Robb's look out shock and betrayal. "Sorry Robb. I have to get the oil open," he says, twisting the lid. "Can't you be patient for a minute?"

Robb blushes faintly at that, and Jon sighs, coating two fingers with the cool fluid. With his other hand, he grabs Robb's cock once more, valiantly ignoring how much he aches to be touched. And the he pushes his wet fingers against Robb's hole.

The cry Robb lets out is loud and shameless enough that it startles Jon, makes him look around in a panic, afraid someone might have heard, but there shouldn't be anyone around to hear. After a moment's pause, when he hears no footsteps, Jon lets out a sigh, returning his attentions to Robb and starts to stroke his length again, faster than before. Robb bites his lip and writhes against the furs, even more so when Jon circles his hole with wet fingers, the muscle still tight and clenching. “Oh gods, _Jon_.”

“It's alright,” Jon whispers, splaying his two fingers to stretch Robb's arse as much as he can without breaching him. They're always in such a rush, when he has fucked Robb he's usually had to do so quickly, and hence maybe hasn't prepared him as much as he should. Robb's never protested, but still, Jon wants to spread him properly tonight, as he should.

Even if Robb himself makes that difficult, thrusting back toward Jon's fingers like he's trying to force them in. “Jon, Jon, I want it, go on, do it please,” he babbles, his prick twitching in Jon's grip, pulling so hard against the cloth he'll leave red marks on his wrists. “I want your fingers in me, oh fuck.” Jon lets out a deep sigh. _Greedy thing._ Still, he can hardly refuse.

“Alright,” he says as he slides just the very tip of a finger into Robb, no more than his fingernail. Robb moans and his thighs twitch at being spread so wide. “Is that better?”

Robb makes a strangled noise. “More, more...”

Jon frowns, even as he slowly feeds the rest of his finger in, gradually letting Robb's muscle loosen for him. “You're very tight Robb,” he says, his prick throbbing as he feels that heat clutching vice-like around his finger. He remembers the last time he felt it around his cock, almost two months ago now, and he has to bite his lip violently to keep himself from tearing his hands away and taking Robb hear and now. “I don't want to hurt you.”

And Robb lets out a choked noise, thrusting back toward Jon's hand, forcing him down to the knuckle. _Fuck._ “I want it, I want it...”

“I know you do.” And Jon sighs again. Perhaps the time issue isn't the only reason he never stretches Robb enough before fucking him. _Well it's hardly my fault then._ “Alright.”

Letting go of Robb's prick a second – which makes Robb whine in protest, but really – Jon grabs the oil and pours some more onto his second finger, in case too much has dried by now. Robb squirms again, and then Jon starts sliding it in alongside the first digit. Robb winces in pain at first, which almost makes Jon want to stop, but he suspects – if not for being tied up – Robb would strangle him if he did. And as his finger pops through the ring of muscle, Jon watches Robb's mouth drop open and his eyes go cross, face washed over with a wave of pleasure. _Oh fuck,_ he thinks, his other hand rushing down the waist of his breeches and underthings, squeezing himself desperately.

“Is that better now?” he asks as he drives his two fingers slowly down to the knuckle, and Robb whimpers and nods. Then Jon starts to crook his fingers inside, stretching him further and finding that special spot inside.

“Ah!” Robb cries out as soon as Jon strokes over the right place, and Jon can't bring himself to try and shut him up. _Next time I should gag him,_ he thinks, and he's surprised by the shiver that runs through him from head to toe, a drop of fluid spurting out of his prick at the thought of Robb like that – bound and gagged, more helpless even than he is right now. _Shit. I don't want to come before I even get inside him._ But he can't make himself stop stroking his prick, even if doing so beneath his clothing is making his wrist cramp something fierce, not with Robb squirming beneath his touch with constant needy moans. “Oh Jon, yes, yes, oh gods...” he whines, trembling against the furs, and then as Jon starts to spread his hole faster: “oh gods, more, put more in, you don't have to be so careful I can – I mean on my own, I've – oh–”

Jon frowns, and pauses, making Robb whimper and clench around his fingers. “What have you been doing on your own?” he asks, thrown off-guard by the sudden confession.

Robb blinks, having seemingly only just noticed what he just admitted. He blushes. “I, uh–” and Jon pushes against that spot again, making him mewl, hoping to wring it out of him. “I've been putting my own fingers in there. Fucking myself with them. I – I couldn't help it, Jon, it was too hard to get enough time with you and I wanted something in me so bad–”

“So you fucked yourself, because you couldn't wait for me to fuck you,” Jon murmurs, his jaw still hanging slightly open. He knew, he did know whenever he got to fuck Robb, Robb liked it, Robb _loved_ it, but that much? “How wide did you stretch yourself?” he asks, crooking his fingers again. “How many fingers did you put in there? How much does it take to satisfy you, Lord Stark?”

Robb moans desperately, Jon can't be sure if at the question or the use of his title, and he writhes back onto Jon's fingers again. “Three, mostly,” he says, and then he blushes deeper. “But I've fit four in there, too, and it was being good, being stretched so – _oh_!”

Jon can't help himself anymore; his third finger slips into Robb's stretched hole, and at first the muscle tightens to try and fend him off, but it relaxes again, and when Jon pushes that finger in Robb lets out a desperate cry as his hole pulls Jon in. “Oh gods, Jon, you don't understand. I like it so much,” he whispers, squirming as he feels himself filled up further. “Every time I just want more and more and more. I loved having four in there, feeling my hole stretch. When it hurts, but I can't help myself, I just need to be filled. Gods, if I could I'd – ah!”

He wonders what it is Robb would do, but the sentence gets lost as Jon starts to slam his fingers in and out of him, unable to be careful anymore, only able to try and fuck Robb as much as he needs. “You want it so much,” he murmurs, and Robb nods frantically, thrusting onto three fingers and digging his nails into his palms. “Gods, Robb, you're so – you're such a–”

Jon cuts himself off, blushing when he realises where that sentence was going. _No. I shouldn't say such things._ Beneath him, Robb moans. “You think I'm a slut,” he says, and Jon wants to tell him _no, of course not, Robb I could never,_ but then Robb laughs. “And you're right. Oh _gods_ , I'm such a slut. I just want my hole stretched wider, oh please Jon–”

All the reluctance in Jon is fading into nothingness, lost beneath the animal lust roused by Robb's shameless need. “Is that right?” he asks, slamming his three fingers back against Robb's spot, making Robb all but scream, and Jon can't seem to care if the whole castle hears. “Do you want me to stretch your slutty hole wider?” he asks, and Robb gasps and nods again. “Do you want me to fuck you with four fingers, like you fuck yourself?”

“Yes!” Robb shouts, shaking all over as he clutches around Jon's fingers, and that is that.

“Fuck,” Jon curses, having to pull his hand away from his prick to grab the oil, pouring it over the rest of his hand, coating his pinky with it. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, and Robb whines as a fourth finger pushes against his hole, nodding like he's never been so sure of anything in his life. Robb's hole already looks too stretched though, and this one doesn't go as easily as the others. Jon has to push at least four times, and each time the muscle tightens and he can't quite get through. _Gods, try not to tear him Snow_. But somehow he just knows Robb won't let him give up, so he adds more oil and eventually, the ring of muscle concedes, Jon's little finger joins all the rest of them inside and Robb cries out in sheer, raw ecstasy.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Robb moans as Jon slowly drives his fingers deeper in, deeper than he could push them before, and as Robb keeps spreading his legs and begging for more Jon ends up sliding his hand in up halfway down his palm, only his thumb keeping his whole hand from pushing in, and with that thumb he traces little circles across Robb's perineum. Robb lets out a choked sob, thrusting back onto Jon's hand, and Jon bites his lip.

“Robb? Does it hurt?” he asks, because surely it must, even if Robb has stretched himself this wide before. Sure enough, Robb nods.

“It's so good,” he says, and Jon notes the distinct absence of the word _but_. “Oh gods Jon, fuck me with your hand. I want it. I need it. I – oh...”

Jon can hardly disobey now, and so he pushes his hand in and out, twisting and turning, hitting that spot inside Robb and splaying his fingers every now and again, seeing just how wide that hole can go. Robb cries out and whimpers, thrashing against the sheets as Jon's slow movements get ever faster. Jon fucks Robb with his hand until that hole is loose and easy, lets him drive in as fast as if he was using only the two fingers. He knows he's already stretched Robb more than he has to for Robb to take his cock, but at the moment that seems neither here nor there, not with Robb moaning so wantonly as he takes half of Jon's hand, panting like a bitch in heat. Even the throbbing of Jon's own prick barely registers in his mind, lost beneath the driving need to give Robb everything her desires.

“Oh gods, Jon, more,” Robb moans as Jon splits him right open, “oh gods, oh gods, more. I feel so greedy, I want so much. If I could, I'd – I'd–”

Robb cuts himself off, choking on his words, and Jon pauses. “You'd what, Robb?” he asks, and Robb whimpers as Jon's hand goes still inside him. “You said that before, and then you didn't finish it. So what is it? What are you so greedy for?”

His brother stares at him a moment, and then bites his lip, closing his eyes almost in shame. “I'd put my whole fist in there,” he whispers, and outside Robb's knowledge, Jon's eyes go wide. “I – I wanted to, but the angle, I couldn't quite – oh...”

“Seven hells,” Jon whispers, and without thinking about it, he starts to fuck Robb with his fingers again. “Is that what you want me to do to you, Robb?” he asks. “Do you want me to fuck you with my whole fist?”

And without opening his eyes, letting out another choked sob, Robb nods.

 _This is a terrible idea,_ Jon tells himself. After all, Robb just said, he _hasn't_ done that to himself yet, and it could go wrong. He doesn't know what he'd say if he really did break Robb somehow, and he had to bring him to Maester Luwin. And yet, with Robb whimpering beneath him like that, clearly so desperate for it, he can't even imagine saying no.

“Robb. Open your eyes,” he orders, and when Robb does so, he slowly, deliberately reaches for the oil again. “I'll do it if it's what you really want me to. If you really want to be filled that much, so much.”

His brother whimpers and nods. “I do Jon,” he says. “I want it so much.”

Jon curses again, rubbing himself through his breeches a second before generously pouring the oil all over his hand. “Alright then,” he whispers, more to himself than Robb. “I'll stuff that slutty hole with my whole hand, if you want it.”

Robb bites his lip and arches up off the bed again, moaning as Jon's thumb circles around his hole, which already looks stretched beyond capacity. “Oh gods,” he murmurs, and Jon, oil dripping down his wrist, just hopes it will be enough.

The tip of his thumb goes in fairly easily, Robb's hole already seeming so stretched, that much more isn't so much to take. Jon curls his fingers against one another, hoping to make it easier, and pushes as deep as he can easily, back down to his knuckles, but any further he knows would be pushing it. He bites his lip. “Robb?” he asks. “Is that enough?”

In truth, he's not sure which answer he's hoping for, but either way, Robb shakes his head. Jon sighs, his prick aching in his breeches. Slowly, he pushes his knuckles against Robb's swollen rim, and Robb gives a pained cry, a thin jet of seed darting from his cock and onto his belly.

“It's alright Robb, it'll be alright,” Jon whispers, and Robb clearly isn't finished yet, his prick still red and painful looking. Without thinking about it, Jon leans down and takes Robb's ballsack into his mouth, sucking briefly and making Robb moan even louder. “I promise it'll be good for you,” he whispers before he licks up the length of Robb's prick, before folding his lips over the head of it, and swallowing it whole.

He's had a lot more practice at this than he has fucking Robb; sucking him off is quicker, neater. As he feels the head of Robb's cock push gently against the back of his throat, it doesn't take that much effort to suppress the urge to gag. Mostly though, he's hoping to soothe Robb through the process of what they're doing, and when Robb cries out as Jon's knuckles, finally, _finally_ push through his hole, it sounds more pleasured than pained. “Oh gods, Jon!”

Jon hums around his length as Robb's greedy hole sucks his hand further in, and he takes Robb further into his throat, hoping to suck Robb down as deep as he's burying his hand in Robb's arse. And gradually, Robb's hole splits ever wider for him, until Jon can feel it close around his wrist, so tight he's afraid he might break his fingers, and he moans around Robb's cock.

“Jon, Jon, Jon,” Robb whispers like he barely has a breath left in his lungs, squirming for more of Jon's hand and his mouth, and Jon can't help but push his spare hand back down the front of his breeches, roughly wanking his leaking cock while still rutting into the mattress below, feeling his hand – both his hands, in fact – go numb. He wishes he'd just gotten undressed at the start, but it's a bit late to do anything about that now. “Gods be good,” Robb mutters, more seed spurting from his cock early, and when Jon looks up he sees the tears in Robb's eyes, the smile on his face. _He loves it._ Jon starts stroking himself faster, and sucks Robb's cock harder as he fucks his brother's needy hole with his fist.

Robb's moans can no longer be explained as words, they hardly even sound human, just noises of a raw animal need to be stuffed to his breaking point, beyond his breaking point. Jon sucks him fiercer and fiercer as he gets braver with his hand, four fingers shoving roughly against Robb's spot as his thumb stretches him as wide as he'll go, and when he looks up Robb is drooling, eyes wedged closed, overwhelmed by pleasure beyond anything he thought possible. He looks like a whore, he looks like an angel, he looks _perfect._

Under the circumstances, Jon can hardly blame Robb for not lasting very long. His brother lets out one last frantic scream before Jon feels his come gushing down his throat, so much of it it makes him choke. _Fuck_. But he recovers quickly, moaning as he swallows Robb's load, and he feels such an overwhelming sense of ownership at the salty taste on his tongue. _He's mine. I fill his arse with my fists and he fills my mouth with his seed. No-one will ever know, but he's mine._

When he pulls back, Robb is still whimpering while split over his hand, but when he looks down at the seed spilling from Jon's mouth, he bites his lip and looks guilty. “Sorry,” he says. “I meant to warn you.”

Jon smiles a little. “That's okay,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I understand you were distracted.” And Robb moans as Jon _slowly_ removes his fist from Robb's, leaving his hole gaping wide and leaking with oil, looking sore and red, and pulsing.

It makes Jon bite his lip. It's then he remembers how much his prick is aching for release. “Robb,” he whispers, hurriedly, finally, pulling his breeches and his smallclothes down to his knees, revealing his cock and taking it in hand. “Do you mind if I–”

He cuts himself off, embarrassed by his selfishness. _He just took your whole fist, he'll be far too sore,_ he tells himself. _Just wank yourself off Snow_. But then Robb, looking from Jon's face, to his cock, to between his own legs, smiles.

“Not at all,” he says. “I love having your cock in my arse, Jon. You know that.”

Jon groans, and takes that as all the permission he needs. He grabs Robb's thighs with both hands, pulling them up to wrap around his waist as he lines himself up with Robb's wrecked little hole. Robb is still bigger and heavier than him, but it hardly matters now. Jon thrusts deep into Robb's arse, and Robb moans helplessly as he feels himself breached again, his wrists now bright red.

“You're loose,” Jon moans as he drives into that slickness, oil squelching as his cock drives into it, and Robb whimpers.

“Sorry,” Robb says as he clenches his hole as hard as he can around Jon's prick, and Jon winces at how genuinely apologetic his brother sounds about it. He shouldn't have said that. He didn't mean it that way.

“I don't mind,” he says, leaning over and pressing an almost-chaste kiss to his brothers cheek. “It just means I can fuck you harder.” And Robb yelps as Jon quickens his pace inside him, his spent cock twitching through it. “And I like feeling you like that. I like knowing I did that to you. That you let yourself get split right open on my hand. I like thinking you want me that much.”

Robb moans desperately, and Jon kisses his mouth this time, driving his cock into him as hard and as fast as he can. Then, he pushes two fingers into that loose hole alongside his prick, and Robb screams against his lips, his teeth digging into Jon's lip. He clutches tight enough that Jon can't help but moan, his release crashing over him like a wave, his seed pulled out of him and deep into Robb's insides, making him moan in echo. Jon pants into his brother's mouth, finishing himself with desperate thrusts, before his cock falters and he pulls away, leaving Robb's hole fucked loose and laced with his come. _Gods be good._

After a moments pause he leans up to untie the knots keeping Robb bound to the bed. For a moment he worries, because with all his squirming Robb pulled them very tight. But he manages. As soon as his free Robb groans and rolls over onto his front, displaying his obscenely stretched arse even more blatantly.

Jon frowns. That must hurt. “Was it too much?” he asks, worried, as usual. Robb grins at him.

“It was just enough, Snow,” he says. “Really, it was everything I thought it would be. Thank you.”

Robb has this trick for sounding so _genuine_ it makes Jon blush. “Well, so long as you're happy,” he murmurs, and then he finds himself wondering – the word 'just' there is curious. Perhaps Robb could in fact take even more: two cocks in his arse, or two fists, or the gods only know what else. Then Jon blushes deeper at the perversity of his own thoughts – even though he suspects Robb wouldn't mind if he suggested any of those things. Still, clearly that sort of experimentation will have to wait for another night. Given they ever get another night where they have enough time to explore their desires so thoroughly.

Usually, Robb would have to get up and return to his chambers now, lest anyone find him here in the morning. But luckily, no-one should be looking tomorrow, which is fortunate not least because Jon highly doubts Robb can walk right now. “I was just afraid I might have hurt you,” he mutters, finally meeting his brother's eye again. Robb only grins wider at that.

“Only a little, and not in a bad way. It was completely worth it,” he declares. Then he pauses. “Though admittedly, I'm glad my parents won't be there to see the way I might be walking tomorrow.”

Jon frowns. He too is relieved Lord and Lady Stark won't be there – especially Lady Stark – but they might not be the only ones who'll raise an eyebrow if the Heir to Winterfell can't even walk straight. Still, hopefully they'd be the only ones both old enough to suspect and brave enough to ask. Hopefully. Either way, there's not much point to worrying about it now.

“So, you'll stay the night in my chambers?” Jon asks, his voice maybe a touch more needy than he's really comfortable with.

Robb smiles at him again. “Do I have much of a choice?” he asks, and that's a fair point. “Though I should warn you, if I'm still here in the morning, I might end up wanting even more from you. I'm greedy like that.”

“I noticed,” Jon says dryly, and Robb chuckles. Then he bites his lip. This might be a bad idea, but well, Robb can hardly judge him for it, right? “But you know, if you've liked me fucking your arse so much... well. I feel like I should see what I'm missing out on?”

Jon can feel himself blushing, and Robb blinks, clearly caught off-guard. But then he smiles again. “If that's what you'd like,” he says. “Though it might be more you riding me than me fucking you; I doubt I'll be able to move that much. But still. Just don't go making promises you can't keep, Snow.”

And Jon raises an eyebrow at him. “Does that sound like me, Stark?”

“...Not really, no.”

 


End file.
